The World of Hope and Loss
by ThatWriterGuy12
Summary: The Sanguine Realms are in the middle of an uneasy peace, powerful cities are plotting to overthrow one another and underneath it all is a sinister plot. (Will be a serial)


Chapter One

The Sanguine Realms consist of four major cities, all eternally cloaked beneath a blood red sky, hence the name. Positioned on a single continent in the shape of a large, jagged 'J,' the Realms are surrounded by waters that to this point, have not been far traveled. While fishing ports do maintain most of the economy in the Northeastern area of the Realms, tales of sea beasts have kept travelers from going too far out to sea. Worse, those that have ventured do not return.

Located directly in the middle of the continent is a dense forest known only as the Esterwall Covert, named so after the group of fairies that call the land home. Legends say that life was first created in the forest, that the fairies breathed into existence the four major colonies as a means to settle an ancient dispute. There are two factions of fairies in the woods, known to outsiders only by the color of their wings, the Blue and the Red. While it is uncertain as to whether or not they created life, the general consensus is that they are the first living beings to call the Realms home. One of the more ancient text in the Oruux civilization is that of _the Accounts of Chivras the Black_, a Necromancer from Before the Second Moon who ventured into the forest and documented all he could.

_The Accounts of Chivras the Black, Page 34_

'It is odd being in the forest for any length of time longer than one's own rest. The canopy hides the blood red sky that we are accustomed to, and depending on where you are in the forest there is an eerie silence that falls around you and swears to engulf any sound made. I have encountered what I can best describe as Sloths in my journey so far, they have the shape and eyes of such creatures but do not move at the same speed. They also seem to be prey as followed behind are animals with elongated legs, twice the length of a full grown mans that have the eyes of a bat and torso of a beetle.

In the more ancient parts of the forest I have come across the villages of the First Fairies, they seem abandon. Hovering over them though is a wisp of black smoke that does not appear to have an origin. I camped one night near these wisps and believe I heard the Old Tongue being used. Time is distorted as well as I cannot see the Sun, I believe I have been here for four days, but it may as well be four weeks. The forest itself spans the entire length of the Realms sideways and roughly forty-two miles in length.'

While his works are mostly forbidden throughout the Realms, this particular one is highly sought after explorers who wish to follow in his footsteps.

The capital of the Realms is Uvlarfast, which is the upper most left civilization. It is very hard to mistake it from any of the other cities as the wall surrounding it is made entirely of stone that has been painted white. Or, it was white to begin with, now it shows the blood from all the enemies that have tried to overthrow the government. Originally it was a military decision to paint the wall white, it was determined that with the Sun always baking the land below, it would blind whatever armies marched forward. The act of not washing off the remains of the fallen was only a happy accident. Surprisingly, Uvlarfast is the smallest city in the Realms. With only 54,500 public citizens, but an army of roughly 100,000 (no one knows for sure the exact might of the Queen's Guard as the full breath has never been used), it occupies less than half of the next smallest city on the continent. While this is the case, it is a matter of quality over quantity. The houses in the Capital are by far the most lavish any eyes have seen. Even the lower class does not know what hunger is, as anyone who has reached that level generally joins the army and levels out the spectrum. Most of the buildings are two stories tall and are a sandy brown. One of the many advantages that Uvlarfast has over its neighbors is that its streets are brick laid and beneath them is a well-oiled plumbing system that runs to every house in the city. Although one would expect the houses to have doors, the vast majority have sheets covering the openings, save for the bathrooms. With how hot the Realms often gets, it is best to have the house as open as possible. In terms of public buildings there is the Uvlarfast School, which teaches children from the ages of nine to adulthood, and there is the marketplace where the primary source of goods are bought and sold. For the most part, the men who do not join the military or go off to college become blacksmiths, while they all work for the Queen, there are several competing smiths that do their best to supply the best tools. Then of course there is the center of all the qualms in the world, the Palace, or Stone Keep as the locals call it. There the reigning monarch sits and dictates everything that goes on in the Realms. While there is an uneasy peace that is in right now, it is better than the endless war that has plagued the Realms since Before the Fourth Moon, before even the oldest stories were around to sing of heroes and fools.

This is where our story begins.

Resting comfortably in her chambers was the Queen, Omah Hurtu, First of Her Name and Queen of the Sanguine Realms. She had black hair that was tied into a ponytail that ran just shy of her shoulder blades. Wrapping her hair was a fine blue silk that had been forged on the day of her crowning. Omah had fair, peach colored skin that had begun to lose its tan now that she stayed in doors for the most part. Originally she was a warrior who was one of the driving forces in her people winning the last war, while there were people ahead of her in the chain of command it was thought she was not as ruthless as others and could see reason, hopefully ensuring this war was indeed the last war. When she was a little girl her blue eyes had a light sparkle that was known throughout her family, her mother always said she loved to see her excited as her eyes sparkled with the gleam of a thousand diamonds. But with the harsh realities of war, that sparkle slowly drained and now her eyes are deep and vast, like the deadly waters that surround her every day. Still, she welcomes those who visit her with a smile, doing her best to live up to the high standard brought before her. While she stands about a foot shorter than the average man, her presence is large and when called upon, the confidence that made her so easy to follow into battle makes the others seem small by comparison. That day she was wearing a green silk dress with her family's emblem on it, a bronze Griffin with the words: _Reverence for the Dead_, written below it. She always chuckled at that, whoever came up with it was terrible at picking sayings, though she could not deny that once you passed away, all of your previous wrongs were forgotten in the eyes of her family.

Rising to her feet and walking across the circular room which was draped with ornate furniture, etched by hand by carpenters from centuries ago, Omah reached one of three grand half-moon windows that overlooked the city. Gazing out across its inhabitants she took a moment to reflect on how many people had been lost since she had been crowned Queen. The city, the Realms for that matter, were in the middle of a thick drought that was leaving tens of thousands hungry from lack of food and dried up as they withered away from lack of water. The Sun bleached skins of the poor souls who died of dehydration were the worst to look at for Omah. Bright red, red as the sand they walk on each day, their skin would have deep crevices and their eyes, that was the worst of it, their eyes cried out in hunger, but there would be no relief.

Omah turned from the window and moved to the center of the room where a wine colored rug lay before it, against the nearest wall was an alter to Talmath, the Old God. The altar was bronze and had space for three candles to be lit at once, signaling the past, present and future. The image of Talmath was that of an older man with a cane made of the souls of his victims in battle, their tormented faces had begun to wear away compared to the rest of the altar, but the pain they endured still remained. Pain has a way of doing that. Omah knelt before the altar and said a prayer to her God, asking for water to fall from the sky. She thought about the last time she asked for guidance on the matter, she looked to the soothsayer of the Realms for answers, and the response was chilling:

_The sky opened up,  
And like some forsaken God  
Roared at its children,  
_'_you have not suffered enough.' _

How long must we suffer? She thought as the candles faded to black and the soothsayer departed like a spirit.

Today was the Second seed of the Third Passing, and the scouts she had sent looking for resources should have sent a reply back by now. Omah once again rose to her feet and exited the chamber, planning to seek out the Messenger to see if word had yet come.

Elsewhere, in Hirland, which is the city located in the Northeastern portion of the Realms, the local fishing market is stacked full of sailors trying to sell their latest take, though what they now bring is scarcely enough to feed a family for a day. Along the unpaved streets, Prophets speak of Sea Gods that will rise from the depths and claim those who will not convert to their cause. The water from the market splashes onto the unpaved streets, causing a thick mud to form that quickly hardens and makes walking a dangerous task. The drought would not be a problem if the citizens of the Realms could drink from the seas, but it has been proven time and time again that consuming the water is deadly. Most of it is murky, lending some credence to the tales of Sea Gods, as they very well may be hiding underneath all the fog and smoke.

'Repent! Repent! Open your hearts I say! Nothing else matters now! Not food or water! Repent for salvation! Give yourself to the Sea Gods!'

Hirland is not all fishing though, one might argue that it is the most developed when it comes to a local economy. There is more than just a fishing market, there are food and game stands, gems that can be bought that were hand plucked from the bottom of the sea, there are even some books that can be bought. Despite how advanced the economy is, the housing is less than desirable. All of the public buildings are one floor that are slightly raised to prevent flooding, though they were not always like that. Before the Third Moon, waves upon waves upon waves crashed against the city, nearly washing it away. Now these two feet of support supply at least some protection. There is no school in the city, the majority of the townsfolk end up becoming sailors as it is, what education is passed on comes from what is needed to survive and how to fish. Despite having a recognized government, it is run out of the house of whoever the elected official is at the time. Of all the cities, Hirland is by far the most Democratic as they hold elections to decide who their ruler should be, even though they are supposed to be subservient to the Queen. Every house has the same makeup, solid wood doors guard them from the cold winds that whip off the water, and the buildings are made in the shape of elongated bowls, so if there were any storms that blew through, the water would just slide off. Each house has but one window that is protected by a pane of glass, and there are three rooms inside each house, the sitting room, a kitchen and a bedroom. There is a public bath house. At the time of this recording, the current Leader of Hirland was Ayrork the Third of His Name. Very gruff in appearance, he gives off the look of someone who is not to be toiled with. Slightly overweight and with a brown beard that completely hides his chin, there is always some dirt underneath his fingernails and rarely is his hair kept. He speaks plainly, and always wears his battle armor, convinced that someone might attack from the South. From the outside he has the appearance of a drunken fool, but to his people, the people of Hirland, he is revered. He is one of them, a man of the people, which is rarely the case. He was crowned Leader of Hirland after his father passed away during the last war. While the crown was his by bloodright, his performance in battle made him the rightful leader in the eyes of Hirland. While he dearly loved his father, he does admit that he did not have the right mindset to win a great war. He was a peacetime leader, someone who had not seen an uprising, his son though dreamt of fighting in some epic battle and practiced strategy nearly every night. If he had led the charge, he is certain Hirland would be the Capital. But as it is, they lost and now are at the mercy of a person who has never even step foot on a boat in her life.

Ayrork was in his kitchen, which doubled as his study during times of war, which for him was every day. Laid out across a stone countertop were three maps, one of the Realms, one of the Forest and one of the Capital. They had countless pencil markings on them, Ayrork at the very least liked to plan ahead, even if planning ahead meant treason. But is it treason if you reject the person in charge? The question seemed to have only one answer, so he filed it away for further consideration.

There was a knock at his door, 'come in' Ayrork muttered, 'and by Gods you are late.'

'I am sorry, there was a skirmish at parlor and I needed to intervene.' The Man said, the Man happened to be the de facto police chief of the city, though there was no official capacity

'Savages,' Ayrork continued, 'we're all hungry. What was it this time?'

'Two men fighting over spoils in a garbage can. One man had a broken arm by the time I arrived.' The Man replied

'Gods...dear sweet Gods,' Ayrork mumbled 'what news from the South?'

'Nothing so far,' the Man hurried, unsure of how to follow, 'we actually lost contact with our men two seeds ago. It is difficult to say why, but we know they were heading into the Forest.'

'Fucking beasts that dwell there. We should have burnt the whole place to the ground when we had the chance.' Ayrork replied, rolling the maps up and guiding the Man back to the entrance of the house, 'Thank you, Xipus, rest well, I have a feeling that danger lies ahead.'

Ayrork was left to his thoughts, the light in the room rolled from darkness to a scorched red as a rare cloud passed over the sky, 'hmm, signs from above?' Ayrork questioned

'After all these years I swear the person you speak to the most deeply yourself is you.' Yicginia, the Wife of the family jested as she entered the frame, she cupped her husbands face with her hands and gave him the slightest headbut as if to say, I love you

'And after all these years, the one who knows me the best is you.' Ayrork replied, taking his wife's hands and kissing them both gently, 'don't tell my men I'm this kind, I have a reputation to uphold.'

Yicginia chuckled at the thought and walked into the sitting area where she had left her book. She was in the process of studying _the Tales of the Lost and Forgotten_, a text that had been scribed by twelve men across five generations, all detailing what they had experienced in exile. The part she was focusing in on at the moment was her favorite part, she had read it several times and fantasized about visiting it. According to _the Tales_, there is a library located deep in the desert between the Forest and the city to the Southwest, Qasea. It is said to have been built underground, protected from the relentless heat. The librarian who works there has no time, they are without age and have always been the librarian. Books included are said to foretell the end of the world, magic and secrets that can never be mentioned, knowledge that can never be told. Legends have given way to myths, and myths to rumors, and with rumors brings fear. Fear of what dark magic is held within its confides. Regardless of what end of the spectrum the magic lay, its captivation has led to several people wandering aimlessly throughout the sands, never to be seen again.

As Yicginia studied the text, her husband gathered himself and set off towards his closest confidants house, hoping there was some plan for his people that did not involve starvation.

Of the four cities, Qasea suffered the least from the drought. Its people, while just as malnourished as the rest, believed that pushing yourself to the brink of death brought you closer to, what they called, the Whims. The Whims as the title might suggest are the wills of the Gods, more specifically, where magic comes from, as the people of Qasea are well versed in the magical arts. The people wear robes that are either black, purple, blue or brown, depending on where they rank in terms of their comprehension of the Whims. Blue cloaks are the most revered, but they also have a price to pay. It is believed that after reaching such a high level of knowledge, a steep sacrifice should be made to give thanks to the Gods. For those who wish to attain the highest status, they must surrender their eyes in a blood ritual that seals their commitment to their belief. As of right now, only eight Blue Cloaks remain out of twenty-seven from the last war. They approach magic differently than the other classes, viewing it as a form of defense and never as a means to attack. Thus, they were put on the front lines to fortify the city as best they could. Black circles that quickly evaporated and silenced the earth around them formed wherever a Blue Cloak went. Yet despite their devotion, 100,000 men with swords and horses could break through steel. Now the Blue Cloaks mostly guard their tower where they have sealed themselves off from the world. In all the moons since the last war, no one has been able to rise to their ranking. Some see it as an elite club at this point, their just pining for the better days when they were in control of the city, but really the blind do see in ways others cannot, and the Blue Cloaks could feel the winds changing.

'Koka cilvēki ir kustībā.' One Cloak said to the other as they sat in a chamber underneath the streets of Qasea

'Tas būtu labi, lai sasniegtu tos šķērsojot.' Its partner replied as a slight rumbling from above caught their attention, 'zemestrīce, zīme?'

'Nē, vairāk nekā jebkas cits šajās dienās' The First countered, the Second seemed to take this in deeply and relaxed into his stone chair, rapping his fingers against the rests beside it, 'beigās viss tiks atklāts.'

In the end, all will be revealed.

(End of part One)


End file.
